Hard Look
by L
Summary: Xander returnes home and isn't sure who he is anymore


Title: Hard Look 

Author: L 

Rating: PG-13 

Disclaimer: 2002- I do not hold copyright on any of the characters from the movie xXx. I do, however, own the rights to all original characters as well as the plot of this fic.   


Feedback: Always 

Archive: Please, ask first. 

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Why'd you come back here? Out of all the places you could have gone why here? 

There was a heavy sigh that filled the darkened space of the loft, bouncing off of walls that seemed to be closing in. Walls that seemed to be reducing the space to nothing around Xander. 

Bad fuckin idea... 

His slouched and brooding form remained rooted in the chair, the same space he had occupied for more than twenty four hours. He sat simply starring at the opposite wall, silently raging at the NSA, at Gibbon's, at Yelena. Bora Bora had been a balm to his soul - the sun, the surf, and a woman he couldn't seem to get enough of. That had all come to a sudden end thanks to Gibbon's and his next little assignment. Little was a fitting description of his last mission for the NSA. Sending him in to gather intel on small arms brokers wasn't his idea of a mission. And the woman? Yelena? She had gotten what she wanted, she was in the United States, but he would be damned if he knew where. 

"Don't concern yourself with Yelena, X.....She's made her intentions clear and you weren't a part of them....." Gibbon's words rang in his ears, slamming around inside his head until his fingers were digging, ripping, into the leather of the chair. His trunk like arms tensed with the abuse he was heaping, in muted rage, on his favorite piece of furniture. The mauling would have no doubt went on until the arms were torn to bare wood if not for the sudden sound of the elevator ascending the four floors to the loft. 

As the freight elevator's wooden gate was lifted upwards he stood, movements sluggish from hours of inactivity. A body stepped into the darkened room, and before he could effect movement through his limbs the lights were carelessly flicked on. Instantly he threw his hand up shielding his unfocused eyes from the glare overhead. 

"X?" The voice was filled with concern, confusion, with other unnamed emotions. A friend. "Hey man......I uhhhh...If I had of known you were getting out I would have picked you up.." 

"Getting out?" What the fuck? His voice was deeper, sandpaper against cement, rusty from it's unuse. And then it hit him, his assumed reprimand to the California penal system. 

As Xander's eyes slowly adjusted he dropped his hand and turned his back on the intrusive figure. He stalked towards the kitchen. Swinging the fridge door open, he stared at the empty interior. "Made it back on my own..." He shrugged feeling the presence behind him. 

"Yeah, I see that." The dark head tilted starring curiously at Xander's back. Tony had known this man most of his life, and something was different, very different about him. He shifted against the counter uncomfortably and glanced back towards the chair where he'd found Xander. "Uhhhhhh....You get a cat or something, X?" 

Xander cut his eyes in direction of the other man's gaze, seeing the slit like rips in the chair, seeing the white little tufts of stuffing peeking through the leather. "No." 

Tony shrugged and turned his attention back to Xander, tension filling the silent space between them. 

"So, what'd ya want?" Xander finally broke the forced quite, reaching into the fridge and withdrawing a half drank crimson Sobe. 

"Thought you could use some fresh air. Me and Matt...." Tony began and found his words sheered away. 

"Not interested." 

********************** 

It had taken three weeks, three weeks of constant bitching and nagging and here he was kicking his bike over. He swore he was only there to shut Tony up, to get him off his back, but the truth was he missed it. He missed the speed, the dirt, the big air. Below him the bike roared to life, sending a spray of earth and sand as the back tire whipped sideways and then righted. 

It all felt good, felt right until he hit the high turn of the earthen track and turned the bike towards the towering mound of dirt. There was no hesitation, no second guessing what he was about to do, he had done it a hundred times before. But this time his mind was a million miles away, was in Prague, and his concentration was non existent. 

As the bike shot smoothly off the jump, mechanical as it was, Xander shoved off the seat. His legs kicked out behind him as his hands sought a hold just below the seat. It was a simple trick, aptly named Superman Seat Grab, but Xander's lack of focus had thrown the whole maneuver off. He was coming down well past the safe landing point, the front tire dipping down as he threw himself back onto the seat. First contact with the dirt threw him over the handle bars, instantly knocking the wind out of him, the ground slamming hard against his ribs. His helmet bounced once and then he lay their panting, taking stock of limbs. Slowly he pushed to his feet, the silver and black shift pants adhering to the abrasion at his hip. Instantly he was faced with Tony pushing his bike towards him. 

"What was that, man?" The words were teasing as the lanky man pushed the bike at him. His sharp features stretched into a grin, trying to lighten the moment, trying to defuse the angry disgust he saw in Xander's face as he ripped the helmet off his head. 

"Nothin that's gonna happen again!" He growled, shoving the bike away from him, sending it toppling right back to the hard packed dirt. 

"Come on, X, it wasn't..." Tony tried to talk to him, but found Xander's back presented to him. 

"Don't try and make it less than it was...." He shot over his shoulder as he began to walk away. 

"Yeah, well, your making too much out of it.." His rebut was angry, fed up, frustrated. Tony stalked after Xander, facing off against his friend, ready to force the other man to talk. 

"I'm not talking about it.....You don't know shit about what's happening......I don't fuckin belong here." He practically yelled into Tony's face, continuing to walk, not even sparing the other man the briefest glance. 

"You don't belong here? Then where do you belong, X?" He rushed after Xander, ready to take the abuse the other man would heap on him for his next words. "This is the only place you DO belong. You've always belonged here and always will........ You go away for a few months and suddenly you're someone else, to good to hang with us now? You can lie to yourself as much as you want but you're still Xander Cage, the guy that's not afraid of anything...." He threw his arms up at Xander's retreating back. "Since when are you afraid of yourself, Xander? Huh?" 

****************** 

The crimson rivulet ran down the smooth porcelain, clinging to the reflective shards of glass that lay in its path, finally emptying into the drain. Xander watched it with a bored fascination, his body still holding the tension of the glass shattering in his hand. Lifting his head, he stared at the man reflected back at him in the mirror. He wasn't sure he knew him anymore. That face was his, the glint in his eyes, but what was going on behind that mask wasn't anything that resembled the man he'd once been so sure he was. 

The song in the background, road noise, something to fill the void of silence in his head, filtered into the bathroom. He suddenly realized how appropriate the few captured lines he heard were. 

Tell you straight - no intervention.   
To your face - no deception.   
You're the biggest fake.   
That much is true.   
Had all I can take. 

He released a heavy sigh and dropped his head, the loud trill of the little black box calling him back to his life, his reality. He had been born Xander Cage, but fate had made him Triple X, and Gibbon's had cursed him to wear the face of both. 

Fini   
  



End file.
